After Affects
by heartfallen
Summary: Sam had his eyes closed so tightly that he never realized everything in the room was floating, but Dean definitely did. Set after Nightmare.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or Thousand Foot Krutch's lyrics  
**Summary: **Sam had his eyes closed so tightly that he never realized everything in the room was floating, but Dean definitely did. Set after Nightmare.**  
**

**After Affects**

**Sometimes I fall asleep  
And then lose control**  
-Thousand Foot Krutch, _Slow Bleed_

Sam leaned his forehead against the cold glass of the Impala's passenger window. Even the little coldness it offered helped the pain, but not much. His right temple was throbbing and if he received a vision right now, Sam was positive his head would explode. However, he did know that this pain wasn't a vision coming, because the pain was different. With a vision, the pain would come from the outside and press inward, while this pain was the opposite.

Sam was very thankful that Dean had turned off the radio about ten miles back. That was also when Dean had pulled over to find the Advil stored in the med-kit in the trunk. The pills hadn't kicked in yet, even though he had taken double the recommended dosage, which Dean had frowned at, but hadn't said anything about.

"Pull over," Sam said in a loud whisper since anything louder caused the throbbing to turn into a stabbing.

Dean immediately pulled onto the shoulder of the vacant road. Sam opened the door before the car even came to a complete stop. He had only taken two steps away from the car before he fell to his knees throwing up everything he had eaten that day. Dean was beside him with a bottle of water before Sam could even ask for him.

They sat there by the roadside for several moments to make sure nothing else Sam had eaten would make an appearance.

"You good?" Dean whispered.

"Yeah," Sam whispered back. He then took Dean's offered hand and they went back to the car and the road.

Retching everything he had eaten in the last day or so actually had helped lesson the pain, but the actual moving to do so had made everything ten times worse.

Dean had known something more was wrong with his brother than exhaustion when a passing car's headlights had shinned on Sam's pale face. Sam hadn't taken anything for the pain Dean could see he was in, so he got the Advil himself. Then Dean knew it wasn't just a headache when he took double the dosage and another car's headlights showed Sam's contracted pupils. Also, Sam's puking had only confirmed this was no regular headache. Dean didn't know what to say other than, "We're almost there."

Sam could tell his brother was worried without even opening his eyes.

Fifteen minutes later, they were parking in some motel's parking lot. Sam didn't even bother opening his eyes to see the name, because it didn't matter as long as it was quiet and had a bed.

"I'll be right back," Dean said while getting out and gently shutting the Impala's squeaky door.

A few minutes later, Sam felt himself moving as the door he was resting on was pulled open. He then opened his eyes when he felt strong arms gently pull him out of the car, but immediately regretted doing so when the motel's harsh bright lights greeted him. Sam groaned and shut his eyes tightly, but the damaged had already been done; if Dean hadn't moved then Sam would have thrown up on his shoes. Dean waited a few more moments and then walked Sam out of the car and into the motel room.

With Sam leaning heavily on Dean, he pulled back the bed sheets and helped Sam lay down, which was made difficult only using the outside lights from the half open door to aid him. Knowing Sam wasn't going to do it himself, Dean took off his shoes and then covered him with the sheets. Next, he closed the door with a soft click while Sam rolled over onto his left side to abate the pain that had now switched to his left temple. Sam could hear Dean moving around, but had his eyes shut too tightly in pain to see what he was up to.

Without warning, a hand was placed on his forehead, but Sam embraced its familiarity. Then the hand retreated and he heard more moving. Suddenly, he felt something cold and wet placed on his forehead and he jumped startled.

Strong arms soothingly pushed him back down saying, "You have a fever, Sammy."

With his eyes now open, he could see--in the faint moonlight--that Dean was worried.

Dean then replaced the washcloth that had slide off and said, "I'll be right back." He then went back to the Impala to get their bags, med-kit, bottle of water, and to lock the car this time.

When Dean returned, he found Sam withering on the bed in pain and slightly whimpering. He dropped their bags hurrying to Sam and calling, "Sammy."

"Dean, it hurts." The heal of his hands were pressing the washcloth against his forehead as if it could make the pain go away. Sam felt the bed dip down as Dean sat beside him. He then winced when he heard loud rattling.

"Sorry," Dean apologized for causing his brother anymore pain. "Come on, Sam." Dean gently pushed an uncooperative Sam into a sitting position and placed two pills in his hand saying, "Take these." Then he uncapped the water bottle and handed him that, too.

Sam slowly swallowed the pills and took a swing of water very careful of making any sudden pain inducing movements. Next, he laid back down, again.

Dean was just replacing another wet washcloth when Sam started struggling to rise. Before Sam was even in a sitting position, Dean placed a trashcan in his hands.

Sam then saw himself throw up things he must have eaten last week or even possibly last month. After that, he did several dry heaves and only when nothing more would come up, did he lay down again.

Groaning in pain, Sam prayed for a vision to come because he knew that would kill him in a second. He had his eyes closed so tightly that he never realized everything in the room was floating, but Dean definitely did. . .


	2. Conclusion

**I am deeply sorry that it has been a year since I posted the final part. I wasn't happy with it until now and didn't want to disappoint so if you aren't too angry for the long wait drop me a review to tell me what you thought.**

_Groaning in pain, Sam prayed for a vision to come because he knew that would kill him in a second. He had his eyes closed so tightly that he never realized everything in the room was floating, but Dean definitely did._

The pills hadn't worked so it was on to plan B. Dean reached over and grabbed the med-kit he had placed on the nightstand and opened it. Their job was dangerous and their med-kit showed it. It was stocked with everything from Band-Aids to blood transfusion materials thanks to a doctor they had helped with a rather nasty haunting years back.

Dean picked up a packaged syringe and bottle of morphine. He then unwrapped the syringe and carefully inserted the needle into the top of the bottle drawing the liquid into the plastic barrel. Dean was so focused on what he was doing that he didn't realize he was slowly raising from the floor until he looked down.

Everything in the room, including the bed Sam and Dean were on, was levitating a foot in the air and still rising. He was _really_ hoping a ghost who had seen Exorcist too many times was just haunting them, but Dean knew better—this was all Sam. Sam whose eyes were closed with his forehead wrinkled in pain and who had no idea what he was subconsciously doing, which made it even more terrifying.

Dean gave one last glance at the floor that was suddenly too far away and the ceiling that was becoming way too close for comfort before he went back to helping his brother. He then filled the syringe with a little more morphine than he had intended, but figured the situation called for it, and tapped the side of the syringe. Just one air bubble could kill Sam and Dean didn't know if the tapping actually helped or if it was just something doctors on TV did for dramatic effect, but figured it couldn't hurt.

"I'm going to inject you with something, Sammy," he whispered in a volume he hoped was audible without causing him anymore pain. "So don't freak out when you feel a pinch on your arm, okay?

Only when he heard the mumbled "okay" did he inject Sam, because Sam freaked out right now would not be good, especially being so far away from the floor and all.

Sam felt a hand laid on his arm and then a small pinch/prick. After a few seconds, he could practically feel a warm sensation spread through his veins and take away his pain. Bit by bit Sam felt his muscles relaxing and the stabbing pain in his mind downgraded to thumping to mild pulsing to slight discomfort to . . . nothing. There was no more pain radiating through his skull so intense that it threatened his sanity and Sam was so grateful all he wanted to do was thank Dean, but he slipped into a peaceful sleep before he could even tell his brain to speak.

The effect of the morphine was almost instantaneous; the more Sam relaxed, the more everything floating began to descend. Dean's eyes were glued to his brother so he noticed the instant his breathing evened out to signal sleep. The exact instant Sam fell into dreamland, everything in the room that had been an inch from reaching the floor automatically dropped the rest of the way with a small thump.

Dean let out the breath he hadn't noticed he had been holding and _really _hoped Sam would stay asleep until the migraine from hell passed, because he really didn't want to repeat that Exorcist moment again. He hated flying; sure floating on a bed to the ceiling powered by the mind powers of his little brother who is in excruciating pain wasn't the same as flying through the air in a metal machine powered by engines that could fail at any second, it was still damn terrifying.

Dean moved from his brother's side to retrieve a chair from the small table and returned to Sam's bedside. He sat down on the uncomfortable wooden chair and planted his feet on the side of Sam's bed in a move for comfort and instant warning if the furniture began to float again. Dean worried what would happen if Sam pulled another Exorcist moment and realized it was his telekinesis putting on the show. There was no telling what his wacky powers would do next if that happened. He didn't think Sam's powers would turn on their owner and hurt Sam himself, but Dean wasn't going to take that chance.

--

Dean had stayed awake all night watching over Sam when he noticed the sky begin to turn lighter and lighter. He quietly treaded across the room to close the curtains so the light wouldn't wake his sleeping brother. Then he removed the washcloth and felt for a fever, again. There was still one, but it had gone down considerably since their arrival.

Next, Dean staggered tiredly to wet the washcloth with cold water just as he had done too many times to count that night. Returning to Sam's side, he gently laid the washcloth back on his forehead.

Sam stirred a little, but all Dean had to do was whisper, "Go back to sleep, Sammy" for him to do just that. Dean sat back down in the chair, that he was sure had to be perfectly modeled to his ass by now, and yawned. He tried to stay awake, he really did, but Sam wasn't the most entertaining person to stare at for hours at a time.

--

When Dean woke up at 12:03 PM, he immediately checked Sam and was relieved to see that his fever was gone. Suddenly, Dean's stomach growled loudly and knew Sam must have been in a deep sleep not to have heard it. Even though he doubted Sam would wake up while he went on a food hunt, he wrote Sam a note anyway.

--

Twenty minutes later, Dean was back with two bags of food. One bag contained two burgers and fries, but if Sam didn't want anything oozing of delicious juices that he labeled "grease," then there was a salad. If the salad's lettuce was too noisy for Sam's head, then he also had soup and you can never go wrong with chicken noodle soup.

After Dean ate his delicious burger and fries and Sam still showed no signs of waking, he turned to the TV for some entertainment.

--

It was five o'clock when Sam finally woke up. Opening his eyes, he immediately sought out his brother and saw him sitting in front of the TV with the volume turned down so low he doubted Dean could even hear it, heightened hunter's hearing or not.

"You can turn it up."

Dean immediately sprang from his seat to check on Sam while asking, "How you feelin'?"

"Better," Sam said pushing himself up against the headboard in a sitting position. He was telling the truth; his headache was just a dull throb that was only evident when he moved.

Dean looked him over carefully trying to determine if he was telling the truth. Satisfied with the answer, he asked, "You hungry?"

"A little," he admitted.

Dean walked over to the table saying, "The fantastic brother that I am, I got you three choices."

He picked up the bag, not noticing or more likely not caring about the large grease spots showing on the bottom, and held it in his left hand while placing his other hand inches under it as if showcasing it. "Your first choice and my personal favorite," he gave a dramatic pause, "The delicious and underappreciated burger and fries."

He sat the bag down, picked up a rectangular plastic container and did the same thing. "Your second choice is the favorite of any garden variety eating rabbit—a salad."

He put that down, picking up a round container next. "Your third, and last choice, is the favorite of any normal sick kid—chicken noodle soup."

He put the soup down and turned to his smiling and very amused brother. "So what's it gonna be, Sammy? Which showcase tickles your girlish fancies?"

Sam outright ruled out the greasy heart attack choice, so it was between the salad and soup. "I'll take choice number two, Bob." Before Sam could even think about getting up to go to the food, Dean brought the food to him. "Thanks," Sam said accepting the offered container and held out plastic fork.

Since Sam was awoke, Dean moved the chair back to the table and flopped onto his own bed. Then he said profoundly, "I'm telling you that that guy made a deal with a demon."

"Not this again," Sam groaned. Dean was positive that Bob Barker had made a deal with a demon to still be alive since he first watched The Price is Right, which was 18 years ago.

"The guy's what? Like 110 and still kicking? That ain't natural, dude."

"Neither is your hair, but you don't hear me accusing you of making a deal with a demon."

"Hey!" Dean was very offended. "This hair," he pointed to said hair, "is all natural."

"Yes, and the hair gel you put in it in the morning is just a coincidence."

"I know I'm good looking, but dude, peeking in on me in the bathroom?" He shook his head sadly. "That's just wrong man."

"Shut up."

"Hey." Dean threw up his hands surrendering. "It's not my fault you're a peeping Tom."

There were so many things he could say back to that, but he settled on a time old favorite comeback instead. "Jerk."

"Bitch."

With the conversion over, Dean turned his attention back to the TV and turned up the volume of a re-run of The Price is Right.

Sam nibbled on his half-eaten salad while thinking about what had happened last night. He had been in so much pain last night that everything was a little hard to remember, but he did remember that Dean was there for him. Dean had done what he always did for Sam. He made the pain go away. On a commercial break, Sam decided to go for it. "Thanks Dean."

Dean turned to him confused. "For what?"

"For taking care of me last night."

Sam didn't need to thank him for anything, that's he was there for. He gave his usual flippant response, though. "It's a tough job, but someone has to do it."

Dean would always protect his brother, which was why he decided not to tell him about his Exorcist debut. Sam was already freaked out enough with just the one time he had used telekinesis, not to mention his visions. What happened last night would never happen again, because he was going to make sure Sam was never in that much pain again. Dean would protect Sammy, even if it was from his own powers, because Sam was his brother and he didn't need another reason.

Completely dismissing the subject, Dean turned his attention back to The Price is Right and the demonic host.

"Come on!" he yelled and gestured at Bob Barker, "Look at him! Dude's old, how is he not dead?"

"He's not that old, Dean. He's only 83 years old."

Dean snorted. "He's looked 110 for _years_. There's no way he's 83. And how do you even know that? _Why_ do you know that?"

Shrugging he answered, "I figured it would be useful to know his real age in situations like these to prove you wrong and make you see reason. But seeing as how it hasn't worked for years, I don't know why I keep trying."

"You should stop then because there is nothing you can say that will change my mind. Bob Barker is somehow involved with demons, either he is one or he made a deal with one."

Sam sighed in annoyance. "Well, it won't matter soon anyway because he's retiring and Drew Carry's gonna take over hosting The Price is Right. So you won't see Bob Barker anymore and I won't hear you complaining that he's a demon and we should go pay him a visit to send his demonic ass back to hell."

"And I have an obsession?" You're the one who knows his birthday and his life story." Dean teased him in an annoyingly cheerful voice, "Aww does little Sammy have a creepy crush on the old demonic man?"

This was Sam's brother—a guy who believed Bob Barker was a demon or made a deal with a demon, accused Sam of having a crush on an 83 year old man, turned down the TV so low he probably couldn't even hear it out of consideration for Sam, purchased three different food choices for him, watched over him all night, made his pain go away, was always there no matter what—and Sam wouldn't have it any other way.

A/N: I meant no disrespect to Bob Barker. Does everyone know who Bob Barker is? If not, he was the host of the American version of the Price is Right, a game show, who is around 80 years old (But he does look older) and has since retired from the show.


End file.
